Wedding Belle Blues
by wildnfree21
Summary: A sort of rewrite of a story I had up a few years ago-and can't remember why I or deleted it. But I was trying to get back into the swing of writing. This is the product and I hope you all enjoy it. : Rated M for later
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Valentine's Day

Chris stared down at the stiff paper in his hand with a surprisingly neutral expression. Claire had expected him to be at least a little surprised. Angry. Shocked. Confused. A cluster-fuck of different emotions, not this blank mask that was so different from the Chris Redfield who wore his heart on his sleeve right next to his combat knife.

"So… do you think you…that you'll be going?" Claire asked.

Chris drew his lips into a sideway pout and shrugged, tossing the heavy scalloped invitation to the table. "Well, they bought my ticket, didn't they?" he cleared his throat exhaustedly and pressed the sinus point between his brows with his thumb, index and middle fingers. "I expect you'll be attending as well?"

Claire smiled tightly and pressed her hands together. "She asked me to be her bridesmaid…"

"And you're doing it?" Chris prompted rhetorically.

Her silence answered his sort-of question and she gave an uncomfortable shrug. "She paid for my trip too…and the hotel room is already booked—for everybody…it came as such a surprise I didn't really know what to say…" she paused helplessly. "I'm really sorry, Chris."

The elder Redfield's eyebrows drew up in what his baby sister assumed to be feigned curiosity. "Why would you feel sorry?" he asked her.

"Oh, I don't know…" Claire trailed off. "Probably because…don't you—I mean, didn't you…I mean, anyone would have to be daft not to realize that the two of you—"

Chris cut her off with an abrupt hand gesture. "That's enough out of that. What Jill and I…well…we never really had—whatever, okay? It's a free trip and there's sure to be food. That's all I need to be happy."

Claire gave a sympathetic smile and then a soft laugh escaped her. Chris raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly is so funny?"

"Nothing." Claire told him. "It's just that if I had known that a wedding invitation was all it took to get to see you, I'd have gotten married a lot sooner."

"Ha ha." Chris exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. "Well…I guess I'm due a vacation."

His little sister had stayed for a little while longer. She did not have much time as she still had some reports that needed to be typed up prior to her two-week hiatus. Chris walked to his fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs and his half empty package of butter. Upon shuffling through the cabinet he discovered that he had exactly two slices of bread left which he would put to good use. He disliked being woken up so abruptly in the morning but Claire had been quite persistent in her buzzing of his doorbell until he had stumbled out of bed, tripped down the stairs and opened the door to find her clutching a beige envelope and shifting uncomfortably from side to side.

He had grumbled something that sounded like, "This better be an emergency." And Claire had stepped through the doorway to rifle through Chris' mail basket located just underneath the mail slot.

"So you _do _have one." Claire said as she fished out an identical, rectangle shaped envelope and handed it to him. "You should really check your mail more often."

Chris grunted and snatched the envelope from her, closing the door with a backward kick of his leg. "Little sister, you live nearly an hour away—did you really drive all this way at—" He glanced at his clock. "—seven in the morning to go through my mail? Because that's a felony, you know."

Claire pulled out another envelope. "Oh, you jerk! This is the birthday card I sent you!" She scoffed and threw the envelope at him. She glanced back down and her eyebrows popped up. "And apparently one from Leon."

"Leon? Really?" he asked. "He doesn't seem the type to send cards."

"He isn't. I had to remind him it was your birthday." She started toward the kitchen tearing the envelope as she went. "I didn't want you to feel all alone and overworked and pathetic on your birthday so I made sure everyone we knew sent you something—you have coffee, right?"

Chris looked down at the pile of envelopes in his basket and spotted a pale blue envelope that looked like another birthday card with familiar feminine writing on it. Without stooping to pick it up, he followed Claire into the kitchen.

"How the hell do you keep track of your bills if you never check your mail, Chris?" Claire berated as she made herself at home and started pulling out coffee grinds.

"I pay my shit online, Claire." He retorted. "Usually on Saturday mornings when I wake up at a decent hour and can focus." He looked over at the table. "And why the fuck did you open my card?"

"Leon says happy birthday. He says he doesn't usually send cards but a certain someone persuaded him." She chuckled. "He also sent you five bucks."

"Oh sweet." He said picking up the envelope. "I always knew I liked that guy."

After coffee had been made, Chris had opened up the envelope Claire had placed before him and stared. On the rigid, off-white paper was printed calligraphy heralding the marriage of one Miss Jill Valentine to a Mr. Raphael Baine. At the bottom of the mimeographed message was a handwritten note from Jill, "I know you're busy. But you're coming. The flight is booked, the hotel is paid for and you have vacation time to spend."

Chris had been rather noncommittal as Claire poked and prodded for a reaction. What the hell did she expect him to say? What did she expect him to do? Scream? Cry? Hop on a plane, fly to Jill and knock some sense into her? Hell, no. The last time they had been together she had made her point quite clear to him—she wanted normal. Though she would always care for him, her heart wanted freedom from the memories being with him represented. Great words from the one who was now going to make his little sister her bridesmaid and had invited him for an all expenses paid trip to see the big show.

He had thanked Claire for telling him, expressed how much of a shame it would be had he missed out on a free plane ride and scooted her out after coffee. Now he planned to make himself a couple of eggs-in-a-basket and zone out for the rest of the day. The butter sizzled violently as he spread it over the heated pan and placed the last two slices of bread on it. As he cracked some eggs into the little circles cut into the bread his phone rang. Loping over to the base, he grabbed the cordless and held it to his ear.

"Redfield." He said.

"Hey! My man!" a voice boomed from the other end.

"Burton! How are ya?" Chris exclaimed cheerfully as he returned to the stove to make sure he didn't burn the fuck out of the eggs.

"Good, good." Barry Burton said. "Just, you know, calling to…just check up on my old buddy."

"I see." Chris said, pushing the crisping toast around the pan.

"Yeah…I…just…you doing alright?" Barry asked.

"Dandy." Chris said, flipping the toast over.

Barry made an affirmative grunting sound and Chris could just imagine him nodding over the phone.

"I'm making eggs." Chris spoke into the silence.

"Oh. Great. Are they good egg—"

"Barry, what are you really calling for?" Chris asked. "You're astute elegance leads me to believe this isn't a dire situation. Should I be worried you're losing your mind?"

A hearty laugh that could have been the soundtrack of the Winter Wonderland in the mall at Christmas escaped his friend. "Forgive me for not being the best conversationalist."

"Uh-huh." Chris scraped his breakfast onto a plate and headed over to the table. "This wonderful phone call wouldn't have something to do with Valentine, would it?"

The other end was so quiet Chris was sure that they had been disconnected until he heard Barry clear his throat. "Yes. I'm sorry, Chris."

"Why is everyone sorry? Claire woke me up this morning to tell me how sorry she was. She isn't dying—she's getting married." Silence still. "That was a joke, Burton. Now would be an appropriate time to laugh."

Barry gave a half-dead chuckle and Chris rolled his eyes. "Well, I don't know about you but I'm excited as fuck to have a paid vacation to—where are they taking me again?"

"Halifax." Barry said.

"Ah, yes. Canada." Chris bit into one slice of toast and slurped at the yolk that threatened to spill over. "I hear the foliage is beautiful this time of year."

"Chris, are you really okay with this?" Barry asked. "You know you can talk to me."

"Yes, man. Definitely. Whatever makes her happy, okay? I'm totally cool with this." Chris assured him, getting tired of repeating himself. "I gotta eat these eggs, Bar, can I call you later? We can pick out suits or something."

Barry grunted. "Yes. Of course. If you're sure."

"Yes." Chris said. "I'm totally okay."

It took another ten minutes to convince his old friend that he was really okay. By the time he hung up, he still had only taken one bite of his breakfast and it had gotten lukewarm. He took another bite of bread and egg and chewed in silence. The ticking of the wall clock was almost in complete synchrony with his teeth gnashing against each other. The utter picture of self control, Chris swallowed, stood up, took a deep breath and proceeded to grab the edge of his table and fling the whole thing to the side—the table flipped over and everything on it cascaded to the floor in a cacophony of crashes and slams.

"Jesus Christ." Chris said, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and crouching down. "Je_sus CHRIST!_" he stomped across the floor a few times and kicked at the wall repeating the chant over and over again. He ended with one last obscenity and threw himself on the couch. What the fuck was Jill thinking? Raphael _Baine_? That wimpy, whiney momma's boy who rode his college-boy internship with BSAA until he became permanent—the elitest _fuck _who tried to tell people how to do their job when all he did was fucking push papers? Goddamn it. _Goddamn it! _

"FUCK!" Chris screamed at the top of his lungs. He kicked violently at the end of his couch. He had not thrown a tantrum like this since he was five years old. He leapt up from the couch and started pacing. This was maddening. The walls began to close in as he remembered Jill, seated across from him at the café, gently stroking his hand in that way she had that made him feel tingly in his stomach.

"I just need normal. I need a break from this. I've been doing this for nearly a decade, Chris—ten _years. _I don't know how much more I can." She sighed. "I spent most of my life on the run, Chris. The other part was battling an evil pharmaceutical company for the fate of the world—" Chris had laughed at the description. It seemed a little melodramatic. "—you always make a joke of things. I know it may seem melodramatic to you—but it's how I feel. I'm tired, Chris. I just want to see if I can settle down. To see if someone like me can live a normal life."

Chris had stared into her beautiful blue eyes, so wracked with misery and pain that he wanted to rip his own heart out and hand it to her—so she could see how it pulsed with the same pain, its veins purpled with misery. Instead, he spoke with a voice that seemed stony—as if he were already distancing himself from this woman who always set out to do what she had a mind to. "And you think you can accomplish that by getting a desk job?"

Jill had cringed from his tone. "I don't know what I think is going to happen. I just know that this life with running everywhere, fighting…it isn't what I want now. I joined the RPD hoping to escape the stigma my father's legacy left me. I wanted to change what I thought was my fate to follow in his footsteps. Then the nightmare with Umbrella happened and I got caught up in this…this _thing _that never ended." She lowered her eyes. "…and I know that you are the type to keep on fighting…keep on going…I know this is going to take us down completely different roads."

Letting out a groan, Chris stomped back up the stairs to his room and grabbed his running shoes from under the bed. Not bothering to put on socks, he pushed his feet into them and bolted down the stairs and out the door. He lived in a quiet area on the edge of town, not too many houses and secluded enough that he knew whenever people were coming and going. Instead of running down the main road, he ran toward his backyard that edged up against a wood. He leapt over the gate like a gymnast and started sprinting up the moist, loose dirt hill.


	2. Chapter 2

Lame. That pretty much summed up his feelings at the moment. Lame was by no means a "Leon"-word—but it was still an accurate description as he stood listlessly in the middle of the crowded train station searching for the eternal ponytail that would inevitably be bouncing into view at any moment. Clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Leon stifled a yawn. He had just gotten off a plane about an hour ago and had proceeded to rent a car in order to pick up his friend, Claire Redfield. Ever since the incident at Harvardville a year before, Claire refused to ride in an airplane or go anywhere even remotely close to an airport. Leon had advised her that such avoidance behavior wasn't healthy. Claire's reply was to smack him in the back of his head to which Leon gritted his teeth into his lip; he wasn't the type, by instinct, to ignore something hitting him from behind. His first impulse was to reach around and grab her, flipping her over and possibly even ripping her arm off—if she had been anyone else but Claire. She was his friend, probably the only real friend he had, and she got certain privileges most others would be terrified to accept.

A train whistle roared in the distance and Leon turned to see a big black engine approach the station. People began to mill about in front of him, anxious to meet up with their loved ones and acquaintances. A few minutes passed and the train had stopped, letting its passengers stream from its doors onto the platform. Amidst a flurry of hugs and salutations, Leon glimpsed the reddish-brown ponytail hopping off a coach a few sections from the back. Stepping away from the crowd and into a more open space, he waved. After casting a few uncertain glances in each direction, Claire spotted him; she gave a typical Claire Redfield, arm-hyper-extended-over-her-head wave and jogged toward him.

"Leon!" she greeted enthusiastically, nearly colliding with him.

"Hey." He returned, patting her back.

Stepping away, Claire lifted an eyebrow. " 'Hey.' " she mimicked him in an exaggerated monotone. "Why are you always so lackluster, Kennedy?"

Shrugging apologetically, Leon widened his eyes, a large smiling splitting his face. "Oh my god, it's been so long! How have you _been_?" he went high on the last word. "There. _Sex in the City_ enough for you?"

"Whatever, dorkacus." She rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. "Where's your car? I am dying for a bath. That train ride was torturous."

Leon led her out to the parking lot where a cool, fresh breeze awaited them. He handed Claire his extra jacket; he brought it along because she was infamous for never dressing appropriately for the weather.

"Thanks," she said as she slipped it over shoulders, immediately becoming entrenched in its folds.

"If you had taken a plane you wouldn't have had to go through two days of travel." Leon chided.

"It was actually only 36 hours." Claire defended with a toss of her head. "Do you know where the hotel is?"

Without answering, he simply unlocked the car, opened her door and gestured to the impressive navigation system on the dashboard.

"Of course." Claire replied. "I'm guessing that's not a standard for this car?"

"Of course not." Leon said. "I brought it along. Think I can give it to the bride and groom as a present?"

"Not likely." Claire said, pretending to give the matter some thought. "I think they would rather have a toaster."

"Oh, like the one you got them?" he asked slyly.

Claire was quiet as he turned the engine on before exhaling. "You don't know everything, Leon."

"So you got them a cordless phone, did you?" he grinned.

"Shut up and drive, Kennedy." Claire groaned with another roll of her eyes. As they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road, she asked, "Don't you think they could use a cordless phone?"

Fifteen minutes later, Claire gritted her teeth in frustration. "Oh well, Leon, if you're so wonderful, what did you get them?"

"Nothing." Leon smiled. "My presence is good enough."

Crossing her legs, Claire stared out the window. She couldn't remember the last time she saw so much green. "Oh god, I hope Jill booked a place with a bath tub."

Leon snorted. "You are so spoiled. A free vacation and you're wondering if they considered your need for a bubble bath."

"Leon, I don't think you are fully appreciating how therapeutic a tub full of bubbles can be…especially if there happens to be a stereo system with classical music at the ready—and a nice glass of wine with fine literature."

"Not that it takes a lot to make _you _happy." Leon said.

" 'Course not." She replied, staring out the window. The trees were beginning to thin out now, giving way to the presence of buildings. In the distance she saw the city of Halifax surrounding the sea. "If you see a Lush or Bath & Body Works, could you stop?"

Leon said nothing, just kept driving. When he didn't answer, Claire turned to him. "Leon? Please?"

"Christ." Leon said. "Yes, if I see any of those girly shops or anything even remotely smelling like one, I will, ok?"

"Thank you." She replied sweetly and returned to staring out the window.

"Just pack all your frilly, perfume-y crap next time."

"Oh, you like shopping with me."

"No. I don't."

"Yes. I think you do."

When they had reached the city limits, Claire had immediately found a shopping complex that advertised a bath shop. After finding parking, she had dragged Leon inside where they were immediately engulfed in a cloud of sweet-smelling bath bubbles and fizzes and other such apothecary articles.

Leon stood amidst all the pink, yellows, pale blues, flowers and glitter in abject horror. Seeing how lost he was, Claire took him by the arm and pulled him forward.

"Come on, we'll make this quick and painless."

"If I had known you would be constantly subjecting me to this type of punishment, I would never have saved you in Racoon." Leon hissed as she picked up a weird concoction that resembled a cupcake. "No way, not if I had known you had some insane fascination with bath products that look like props from Candy Land."

"Oh Leon, you are so dramatic." Claire said with a scoff.

After about a half hour of comparing bath fizzes and bath bubbles with different scents and colours, Claire had finally purchased about $50 worth of merchandise. Much of it in pink. Leon walked ahead of her as she rifled through her bag of goodies. When they were back inside of the rental, Claire handed him a round object wrapped inside paper.

"What's this?" he asked suspiciously.

"For you." She said with a wink. "It's citrus—and totally acceptable for men to use. To thank you for putting up with me."

Hiding a smile he didn't want to grant lest she take it as a sign that she was entitled to make him endure such outings for the rest of his life, he set the package in the cup holder.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Claire replied.

After pulling back on to the main road, Leon cast a glance in her direction. "Um, how do you use that thing?"

Claire gave a sort of snort-laugh and went on to explain to him the very science-sounding process of running the bath water and dropping the ball into the tub. Leon vaguely recalled a chemistry experiment he had done back in high school. Some chemical or other had been added to the mixture by mistake and had flowed up and out of the beaker onto the table. The table had nearly been burned through…he wondered if it was necessarily wise to lower his body into something that fizzed up when it came in contact with water. He didn't mention the thought to Claire because he still had some pride he wanted to hang on to for at least a couple more hours.

Halifax was actually a pretty cool looking place. He wished they had taken a taxi so he could enjoy the scenery more but as it was he let Claire's delighted breaths and "Ooh, look at that!" suffice for the moment. The large road wound around a big park-like spread of grass with an immense, jagged-edged building in the center; the building's walls jutted out in each direction looking like a weird hybrid of Pentagon and camping compass. Claire had broken out her travel book and was flipping frantically through the pages before answering Leon's unspoken question, "That's the Halifax Citadel National Historic Site." She read off the facts and figures of the building, something about it being a significant symbol of the city's role as a principal naval station in the British Empire and how it was a defining feature in Canada's nationhood.

"I wonder if they give tours…" she mused, craning her head to keep the Citadel in view as they passed by.

"Oh Jesus." Leon groaned. There was not one person in the world who wanted to go with Claire on a tour of any building. If there was a tour for that place, the guide would have a boring, droning, I-couldn't-get-up-the-nerve-to-kill-myself-today-so-I'll-try-tomorrow voice and talk about rugs and vases and other things that made Leon feel like Dorothy in the poppy field. Zzzzzz… he had only been to a tour of a place with Claire once—and it had been by default as no one else wanted to go.

"What?" Claire asked, indignantly.

"I just know I'm the one whose going to get stuck going to that thing with you." He sighed. Maybe it was immature but he couldn't help it. History was never his favorite subject and the thought of spending a perfectly good day digesting old things was too much for him. Why dwell on the past when there were perfectly good, functional things here in the present to appreciate?

"If there is a tour, you don't need to go. I'll go by myself. I don't mind." She sat back in her chair mildly insulted and stared out the window.

Claire remained subdued until they reached their destination, the Prince George Hotel. The entrance had a curved black awning arched over spotless and, ahem, streak-less glass doors. A bell hop stood outside with an old school, gilded baggage rack that stood about his height. Next to him was a huge potted tree that had been trimmed to resemble three separate ovals, one on top of the other.

"Pretty snazzy, eh?" Leon said, turning toward Claire. She didn't say anything, just nodded and unbuckled herself. "You okay?"

"God, Leon, yes." She snapped in an irritated voice. A voice which indicated that everything was NOT fine. She caught herself and said, "I'm fine. I'm just tired. I have a bubble bath waiting for me, remember?"

"You aren't still mad about the whole tour thing, are you?"

Claire gave an airy laugh and a dismissive wave but didn't look at him. "Of course not. Once I get settled in and pamper myself, I'll be great…it doesn't take much to make me happy, remember?"

Her tone was tinged with something sad, something far away that he couldn't quite place. Leon looked at her face and saw she was smiling easily enough, her eyes were a little tired but other than that she looked cheerful.

"I'm probably also PMS-ing. So drop the subject before I make you go out and buy fifty-pounds of chocolate for me."

"I hear the chocolate's pretty good up here." He began.

The bellhop opened Claire's door and was helping her out. Stepping onto the sidewalk, Claire thanked him and then argued back and forth with him about letting him take in her bags.

"Don't worry." Leon assured her as the bellhop won and began loading their bags onto the rack. "I'll give him a good tip."

Claire smiled. "Great. Don't forget your bubble fizz."

Leon smacked his forehead in exaggerated horror. "Of course. I can't believe I just left it there." He reached back into the car, grabbed the orange powdered ball and tossed it nonchalantly as they walked through the revolving doors into the marble encrusted lobby. He looked a little foolish whistling and tossing the bath fizz up in the air while they checked in but it got Claire smiling once again.

"You are a dork, you know that?" she said as they retrieved their room keys.

"I know." He said jovially.

A scream from across the lobby interrupted them and they turned to see an excited girl with shoulder-length blonde hair jumping up and down.

"Sherry!" Claire exclaimed and ran toward her. "Oh my god, it's been too long! How are you?"

Leon smiled as Sherry continued jumping up and down and pulling them both in for hug after hug. She was in her second year at college and she certainly had stories for them.

"But I'll tell you all about them at dinner." Sherry said, gazing adoringly at the two of them. "And I totally canNOT wait until I hear everything that you have all been up to!" She gave one last squeal and linked her arm through Claire's. "We have the same room, you know. It'll be just like a sleepover—and our first fitting is tomorrow. Jill's orders are that we be punctual to all the wedding prep stuff and pamper ourselves ridiculously—so I've already scheduled massages for us this week and other spa treatments the hotel offers. Jill said to put it on her and Raphael's tab so we don't have anything to worry about."

Claire cast a wide-eyed look at Leon who grinned. Just listening to the young girl made him tired. He was glad that he lacked the estrogen levels to be included in their outings.

Sherry turned and offered her arm to Leon as well. "Oh, Leon, don't think I've forgotten about you! I've been thinking of all the fun sight-seeing we could do around Halifax. It's a beautiful city, don't you think? You know that big building you see off of Sackville? The Citadel, I think it's called? Well, they offer tours there and I definitely want all of us to go!"

Leon froze momentarily. He forgot that Sherry was a history major. With a minor in archeology. Which meant she liked old, historical, dusty things. Crap.


End file.
